"Now an angel of the Lord said to Philip—Go south to the road—the
desert road—that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza!" Acts 8:26

Philip, the Deacon, was engaged in a great work in the
city of Samaria, when suddenly an angel came to him and commanded him go to
the south, into a desert region. It seemed a strange command—but Philip
instantly obeyed. "He arose and went." This is a fine example of the kind
of obedience the Master wants in all His followers. There must be no
asking "Why?" or "How?" —no postponing of obedience.

Philip was popular and successful in Samaria. People
thronged to hear him preach. He was doing a great work and was absorbed in
it. We can imagine him, when he heard the angel's bidding, that he should
leave the city and go away into a desolate place, where nobody lived—we can
imagine him looking into the messenger's face and asking, "Why?" But
not thus did he answer. It was the Master's work he was doing, and
the Master knew where He wanted him.

Any of us may be called any day to go out from our ease
and comfort—into some way which is a desert wilderness. No reason will be
given. We shall not be told what the work is—which needs us and awaits us
there. It will be a self-denial and a sacrifice for us to
obey. But we have nothing whatever to do with the reasons for the
call, or with its ease or comfort. We may think that the work
we are doing now—still needs us, that it would be destructive to it for us
to lay it down or pass it to other and untrained hands. But we are not to
raise any question. All is the Master's work, BOTH in Samaria where
now our hands are so full, and where God is blessing us so abundantly, and
that out on the desert road which needs us and is awaiting our
coming. If the Master says, "To the desert!" He knows why He wants us
there! Somebody is waiting there in the desert for our coming.

We have nothing to do with the question of comparative
need here—or there. Sometimes men are heard asking about the relative
importance of certain fields. We do not know what fields are most
important. No one would have said that the desert way toward Gaza was a more
important place for Philip just then—than the crowded city of Samaria. Yet
in the Master's eye—that was the right place. Jesus needed His faithful
servant and co-worker to explain a passage of Scripture to a perplexed man
who was journeying that way. We do not know where He may need us tomorrow.
We must be ready to go wherever He would have us go.

The Master may not always call us away from activity—to
other activities. Sometimes He calls His servants out of the
work altogether, to rest awhile. Activity is not the only kind of
service which fulfils God's will. "They also serve—who only stand and wait,"
wrote blind Milton. Not always, however, do we accept the Master's guidance
with submission and joy—when He calls us away from the productive fields—to
the desert! We think we cannot be spared from the place of service.

A Christian woman was lamenting her illness, which
had kept her away for a long season from her beloved work. There were
shut-ins she had been visiting every month—she could not visit these any
more. There was her class in the Sunday-school, in which she was deeply
interested. She had hoped to lead some of them to Christ this winter. There
were sorrowing neighbors and friends to whom she wanted to go with sympathy
and comfort. She had many interests of Christ's kingdom on her heart to
which she wished to devote these days. But instead of her doing all this
needed and blessed work for her Master, these services of love which her
heart prompted—the angel met her and said, "Go south to the road—the
desert road—that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza!" So she found herself
called away from useful toil and loving service—to what seemed idleness,
wasted time, in a sick-room!

The experience is not unusual. But when thus called
apart, do we obey as cheerfully as Philip did? "He arose and went." Rest
is not always idleness. Inactivity is not always
uselessness. The sick-room or the invalid's chair—is not always
wilderness. Philip found work, blessed, far-reaching work, in the
desolate place where he was sent. Our place of retirement may be a very
garden of God to us. We may find a table spread with heaven's food
for us in the wilderness. We are in this world not only to do all the good
we can—to comfort others, to help people over hard places, to plant
churches, to do mission work—we are here to grow into the beauty of Christ,
we are here to do the will of God. The desert may be to us a holier,
more fruitful, place—than Samaria! We know at least, that wherever
the Master sends us any day—is the best place in the world for us
that day, the nearest heaven of all places on the earth. We are Christ's, to
be used by Him—when, where, and how He will use us; or to be laid aside—if
that is His will for us.

It is interesting to follow Philip, as he leaves Samaria
and journeys along toward Gaza. It is not unlikely that he wondered as he
went on—what the important errand was on which he had been sent. He
did not know what duty was waiting for him. He knew he had been sent
into the desert for some purpose, and so he went on, cheerful, watching and
ready. At length he saw a chariot driving along the highway. "Go near, and
join yourself to this chariot," said the Spirit. So Philip had found his
work. The rich man in the chariot was in need of his help. He was reading
the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, and he could not understand who the
person was—of whom such strange things were said. Philip understood, and
showed the traveler, Jesus pictured in the words.

We do not know any morning as we go out, what the
Master's errand for us that day will be. We go with sealed orders.
But have you ever thought that you are entrusted with a message from God
for someone, or for many—each day? Tomorrow you will meet some
fellow-pilgrim who has a question he cannot answer, one that is sorely
troubling him. God made your paths to cross—yours and his—just that you
might answer his question for him.

There is no chance in this world. Jesus said that
God numbers the very hairs of our heads. This means that the smallest things
in our lives, the least important incidents—are included in our Father's
plan, in His care of us.

The meeting of Philip and the nobleman that day in the
desert was chance, as men say—but we know that Eternal God, that
chance did truly guide. We see it in the story. God sent Philip to that
desolate region—that he might meet the Queen's treasurer and carry a
blessing to him. We see the secret working of God in this one case.
May we not believe that the same divine love and wisdom—work
continually in what seem the chance meetings of ourselves and others? It is
always true, that all the ten thousand crossings and touchings of human
paths each day—have a divine purpose in them.

You have an errand to every person you meet! You are sent
to him with comfort, cheer, encouragement, sympathy, help—and you will fail
your Master, if you do not deliver your message, or impart your comfort, or
minister your good.

We should look upon everyone we meet in any of the
tangled paths of our fellowship and association with men—as a brother to
whom God has sent to us, with great needs. If we realized this, our heart
would go out to him in love and interest, eager to be a friend to him, to
feed his heart-hunger, to make him braver, stronger, happier, a better man.
We owe something to him—this man we meet. We owe him our love. He needs us.
We have something which God gave to us—to take to him.

The errand of Philip to this man in the desert—was of the
highest kind. It is a good thing to give a hungry man bread, or a thirsty
man a cup of water. The Good Samaritan did a noble service to the wounded
man bleeding to death by the wayside, in providing for his care. It is a
great thing when we are faithful in giving physical and temporal
help. But there is a higher way of blessing others. When God sends you
to those who are poor, in need, or suffering, do not put them off with
money alone—if you do, they will starve. Give them something of
yourself; give them human interest, sympathy, love, kindness; something
that will feed their hearts as well as put coal on their fire, or bread on
their table. Give them also the bread of life!